Eisotrophobia
by Maya Sushi
Summary: Eisotrophobia: fear of mirrors or of seeing oneself in a mirror; fear of one's reflection Because without his brother there, Al realized, he didn't know what to do. He could only hold Ed close as he crumbled to the ground. screaming


_**Disclaimer: **_I daresay I don't own nuttin' yo.

_**A/N: **_Okay, so the fact is that I _may_ be on some sort of phobia kick. So, I apologize for the reoccurring theme in this story and my last. Although, you, reading this story right now, most likely have not read the other phobia story that I just posted, so this author's note may mean absolutely nothing to you. I'm not even sure why I'm _apologizing_ for it, maybe because I felt like I needed an author's note and I didn't have anything to say. Oh, I do have something to say now though.

Okay, this story came about when I was looking through a list of phobias and I was like, whoa, what if Ed had that phobia? It would kinda make sense. And then there were some that I might write some one shots for that definitely were a little wild. Like fear of people with amputations. Like, how weird would that be? (message me if you think I should write that!) Anyway…

***

_**Eisotrophobia:**_

_fear of mirrors or of seeing oneself in a mirror; fear of one's reflection_

***

Alphonse sometimes wondered, in the emptiness of the lonely nights, he wondered. Sometimes, he would wonder about his brother. He knew that his brother blamed himself for everything that had happened; sometimes, though, he would ask himself, "to what extent". Edward, his big brother, the ultimate pessimist. Al had decided this for himself, but it wasn't anything that he could help. It was how he was, or rather (and this worried Al the most), how he had become. As time went on it seemed as if the guilt in Edward's eyes got worse and worse, to the point where Al had almost considered reminding him, "No, Ed, no, it's not your fault." without any words even being said. On multiple occasions. Al sometimes wondered, however, if he had too much time to wonder. He wondered what his brother would have to say to that… He would probably blame himself.

Alphonse sighed again and again as he sat and he wondered too much if he wondered too much. Maybe he _was_ just wondering too much. Maybe Edward didn't even take anything to the sort of extremes that he imagined. When people think about things too much, they tend to become exaggerated.

Later, he wondered if it would have helped if he had wondered more.

Maybe he would have realized that it was driving Edward _insane._

Maybe not.

***

He had never really taken any notice to the lack of mirrors in their dorm. He didn't know anything about the hesitant way his brother entered public bathrooms, fear etched onto his face. A suit of armor doesn't really need to take the time to tidy themselves up in the morning. He'd never seen a logical reason to take a good long look at himself in the mirror. Ed apparently hadn't either. Al hadn't thought anything of it, hadn't thought that maybe it was because… Hadn't thought that he'd been… It just seemed inconceivable that he had… been…

_Afraid._

***

It had happened when they were staying at an old inn with endless vacancies and a rickety, groaning frame. He had been off to get Edward something to eat for dinner, as he himself had avoided the meal. Thank for taking such great care of yourself Edward.

As he walked through the hallway with his brother's dinner clutched tightly in is hand, a scream reached his ears. A scream (his brother's scream), a scream (Ed's scream), and he was out of the hallway (Ed is screaming) and back into the room (his brother is screaming) before he could even give another thought (screaming) to the food that now lay on the floor. Honestly though, the last thing going through Al's mind was "There goes dinner.". He was a little preoccupied with "What's wrong?"'s and "Oh no!"'s. (his brother was screaming) (Ed was screaming)

Al found the immediate room that he entered to be as empty as empty can be. All standard white walls flecked with gray and simple furniture. He stumbled desperately past small beds with ugly, scratchy, bedspreads and a particular lack of warm materials to cover yourself with. He ran haphazardly into the dimensional quadrilaterals of a nightstand, and into the too-neutral bathroom from where the scream had (his brother had been screaming) emanated. They had ended before Alphonse's arrival and now the silence hung in the small room around him like something palpable and thick.

His brother was huddled into a small ball in the corner behind the toilet.

Al glanced at himself in the mirror as he ran terrified across the room to his brother. He thought briefly when it had been he had stopped being startled by his reflection. He supposed there came a time when even looking at such an odd sight could become normal. But none of that mattered right now, because (Ed had been screaming) his brother was in the corner of (his brother had been screaming) the room, trembling (screaming) and Alphonse couldn't cross the few extra feet to reach him fast enough.

"Brother?" Al called out quietly, his hand hovered over his brother's shoulder. Unsure of whether or not to touch the quaking boy before him. He opted not, "Brother, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry Al, I cant look, I can't look, I'm so _afraid…"_ he whispered, his voice shaking. Each word more inaudible than the next. Al had to strain hard to hear his answer, "I'm so _scared, _I'm sorry Al… I'm such a coward… I'm sorry Al."

"What are you scared of? Ed, what are you afraid of?" Al asked calmly, amazed at his own control. All he wanted to do was (scream) cry, his brother wasn't afraid of _anything. _Why was he (screaming) scared?

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be the brave one," Edward hissed, successfully reading his younger brother's mind, even in this fear induced state, "but I can't help it. I'm so scared, I can't look, I can't…"

"Look at what? _Look at what?"_ Al (screamed) whispered anxiously. His hesitant hand now lying on his older brother's quivering form. "Look at what, brother?"

Ed had risen from the ground all shouts of fear (screaming) and fury (his brother was screaming) before Al could even comprehend the sudden movement. His answer rose from his throat with daggers that tore at his guts on the way up, his voice hoarse and scratchy. Loud (screaming) none the less. "Fucking _ME!"_

Edward (screaming) screamed.

His clenched fist made contact with the mirror in front of him with an unparalleled madness and red hot anger (Ed was screaming). Al's world was a flurry of moments for a split second, that passed too-fast and too-slow without ever stopping for one to end and the other to begin. Falling shards of glass, red, red, blood, and Edward (screaming), and fear (his brother is screaming), his fear, Ed's fear, his fear, Ed's fear, and reflections, reflections everywhere. Each of these little too-fast, too-slow, millions of moments reflected over and over again in countless shards of shining glass. Millions of tiny mirrors that now littered the bathroom floor and reflected, reflected, a screaming brother, hands clasping viciously at his golden hair, staining red. Covering his eyes (screaming), because, because, because, "I can't look, I can't look, _I can't look, I can't…"_

Alphonse realized with sudden clarity at the end of this moment and at the start of the next, that this was his now. Something was wrong with Edward, and there was no help for Al. Al had to help Ed. He had to know. Know what was wrong. He had to fix this. "Look at what!?" Alphonse yelled, standing abruptly. He grabbed his panicked brother by the shoulders and shook him thoroughly, "Stop, brother! Stop! Now! Calm down!" He wrapped his arms around his (screaming) frightened, horrified, bleeding brother and lifted him up, lifted him off the floor littered with miniscule moving pictures of the scene occurring, lifting him from the sharp edges of offending glass that pierced so easily through his now red, red, skin, and lifted him out of the room that was now a house of mirrors.

The moment they were out of the room everything changed too-fast and too-slow again and filled Alphonse with a renewed sense of shock.

Edward's flailing arms suddenly wrapped around him tight, tight, tight, and desperate in an embrace and his older brother's body was racked with sobs. Choking, gasping, sickening tears that tore at his ribcage and overworked his struggling diaphragm. Ed held onto Alphonse as if he let go he would never see him again. As if he would be left alone. Just Ed. Just him.

Left alone with nothing but himself.

But he couldn't, he couldn't. Because, because, because, "I can't look, I can't look, _I can't look, I can't…"_

Alphonse held him until he cried himself to sleep in his arms, blood and tears soaking them both.

As Alphonse lay Edward down onto his standard, bland, too-gray bed that now would be forever stained crimson, he wondered. He wondered about the way he felt very much like an older brother sometimes. He wondered why this certainly _was not_ one of those times. And most of all, he wondered about his brother's (screaming) words. He wondered about Edward (his brother was screaming). As he picked each peace of glass from his brother's unconscious body, trying desperately to keep himself calm and stop the bleeding. He really need not wonder though, because he already knew. He didn't need Edward to finish telling him.

Because, because, because (he was screaming), "I can't look, I can't look, _I can't look, I can't…"_

Alphonse knew that Edward was afraid. He was afraid of what was going to happen in the future. He was afraid of everything that was happening now. He was afraid of what had happened in the past. Alphonse was afraid of these things too, desperately, horribly afraid. He could manage, with comfort from his brother, who could hold onto these fears, accept these fears, and strengthen himself through these fears. The problem was, though, that most of all, Edward was afraid of himself. He hated what he thought he might do. He was afraid to fail, afraid to let his brother down, so much that it had driven him to this. _He couldn't look, he couldn't look, he couldn't look, he couldn't…_

Alphonse knew that this was his fault.

He wondered what his brother would say to that… He would probably blame himself.

Maybe he had wondered too much, maybe he had not wondered enough. But either way, there was nothing he could do about (screaming) it. (his brother was screaming)

Because without his brother there, Al realized, he didn't know what to do.

He could only hold Ed close, as he crumbled to the ground.

(screaming)


End file.
